


Your Hips, Your Lips, Your Skin On Mine

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artists, Canon Disabled Character, Falling In Love, Happy Ending, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Modern Era, New Year's Eve, Nude Modeling, Oral Sex, Pining, Sappy, brief use of ableist slurs, dating fail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 05:01:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12005568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: Flint's model cancels on him for his last class of the semester. Fortunately Max has a friend who might be able to step in.Everything seems fine and dandy until Flint sets eyes on the model.





	Your Hips, Your Lips, Your Skin On Mine

 

“I’m probably going to have to cancel my class.” Flint props his phone against his chin while he tries to balance his coffee and unlocking his front door at the same time. He nudges the package that had been waiting outside his apartment inside the door with his foot. At least it hadn’t been left in the snow this time. You’d think they’d know better than to leave art supplies outside in December, but nope.

“What, why?”

“Apparently Idelle is getting married and she has to fly to Belize to do it.” Flint rolls his eyes. He still can’t believe it’s happening. It had come out of nowhere. He hadn’t even realized she was engaged, which apparently she hadn’t been before yesterday. It was all a little rushed in his opinion. Who the fuck just gets engaged and married like that?

“Anyway, it’s a shame cause it’s the last class of the semester, but it’s too late to find a fucking replacement.” He sets his coffee down on the counter and sighs.

There’s a pause from Max’s end and then, “I could get you a model.”

“What? Really?”

“I mean.” Max hesitates. “Maybe.”

He can see her making her “considering shit from all angles” face even over the phone. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch except…some people are dicks.”

“What?”

“He has a disability. Is that going to be a problem?”

“No.” Flint says promptly. “All I need is a body that my students can draw.”

“Well, when you say it like that.” Max says and laughs. “I’ll talk to him and let you know.”

“You would be a lifesaver. I’ll owe you forever.”

“Mmm, I’ll remember that.”

Flint ends the call and takes a sip of coffee. Jesus, if this works maybe his whole fucking day isn’t ruined after all. Usually he has backup models but it’s the end of the semester and no one has time for anything. And all because Idelle had to go get fucking engaged and fly to fucking Belize to get fucking married.

 *  *  *

Max calls him back an hour later and says her friend will be available to model.

“I gave him your studio address.” Max pauses. “And, uh, James…”

“What is it?”

“Just…be nice, all right?”

“I’m always nice to the models.”

“Nice and brusque don’t mean the same thing, you do know that right?”

“Look, I appreciate this man filling in so much, honestly I could kiss him.”

“If you just pay him and say thanks, I think that will be enough.” Max says dryly.  “Talk to you later.”

“Later.” Flint says and ends the call.

 *  *  *

Twenty minutes before class starts there’s a knock at the studio door.

“Come in.” Flint calls distractedly, setting the last easel up. He’s so thankful it’s the last class of the season. Everything’s been too busy of late and he’s been so preoccupied. He just wants it to be done with so he can start planning for next semester. Oh, and celebrate the holidays somewhere in there. Maybe he’ll go somewhere warm for Christmas. Maybe not. Maybe he’ll just sleep and read and cook a lot of pasta.

“Hi.”

Flint looks up and it’s like time stops. He’s read that phrase in novels a hundred times and scoffed at it every single time, but this is the first time he’s understood precisely what it means. He’s aware of the delicate frost on the windowpanes, the whole length of the studio with the easels and drawing papers arranged around the platform. He’s aware of the air itself, a little too warm because he knows modeling nude in the winter is terrible, and he wants the model to be comfortable.

He wants the model.

That’s the full stop of that sentence in his mind. He wants the model.

Flint hasn’t seen a man this attractive in…ever. He’s never seen a man this beautiful. How has he gone his whole life without gazing at this man?

“Um.” He’s forgotten how to speak.

“John Silver.” The model says, holding out his hand. “Max said you had a modeling emergency.”

“I, yes. Yes.” Flint nods. He crosses over to shake the man’s hand and that’s a mistake because now he’s touching him and Silver’s hand fits perfectly in his, his fingers smooth and warm, his palm resting with just the right amount of pressure against Flint’s. “I really appreciate this. You have no idea.”

He has to let go before it gets creepy. _Don’t make it creepy,_ he tells himself.

“No worries.” Silver gives him a blinding smile. “Anything for Max.” He looks around the studio curiously. “Do you want me to change in here or?”

 _Oh god, oh god, oh no, no, no no_. Flint is going to see this man nude. He’s not sure he can take it.

“There’s a bathroom through there.” Flint gestures towards the door.

“Thanks.” Silver smiles again and heads for it.

“It’s Flint. By the way.” Flint says belatedly.

Silver turns around. “Sorry?”

Flint clears his throat. “My name. It’s Flint.”

Silver grins. “Yeah, I figured.” He goes into the bathroom and closes the door.

Flint turns and goes over to press his head against the cold windowpane. What the absolute fuck. What is he supposed to do?

Oh god, he’s going to get a chance to draw Silver naked. He’ll have to do charcoal. No…maybe just simple pencil. Flint’s caught up in thinking which will do Silver’s lines justice when Silver comes out of the bathroom in a plain dark blue robe that falls just above his knee.

And just as belatedly as he remembered his own name, Flint also remembers what Max said.

Silver’s left leg ends just below the knee. He has a skin-tone plastic prosthetic attached with light pink straps and he seems equally at ease with it showing as he was when he was wearing pants.

“Where do you want me?”

 _Anywhere. Everywhere_. Flint swallows the words before he can say them. He will not be the gross artist who makes inappropriate advances towards the naked model, he will not. He refuses to do that. For the last fifteen years he’s been completely professional with every model he’s come into contact with, whether he’s hiring them for his classes, or personal art studies, and he will not ruin that streak with one of Max’s friends.

“Um, yes. Over there.” Flint nods to the bench placed on the slightly raised platform.

It’s hard to breathe and he takes a moment to rearrange his pencils and brushes before he looks at the model again. This is going to be impossible. How is he supposed to focus with a man like that in front of him?

Silver stretches and rolls his shoulders and Flint suppresses the faint soft sigh that rises to his lips at the motion. “With my prosthetic on or off?”

“Which are you more comfortable with?” Flint says. Either one is a good exercise for his students. He can already envision the slightly darker pencil strokes of the prosthetic against the paler shade for Silver’s form.

Silver shrugs. “I can go either way.” he says, and grins.

Flint pretends he didn’t hear that. There’s no way Silver actually meant that the way it sounds.

“Um….” Flint considers. “Off then? If that works?”

“Yeah, absolutely.” Silver says cheerfully.

He starts to lean down to unfasten it and the robe falls slightly open and Flint looks away immediately. He’s the teacher here. He’s seen tons of naked people, professionals who are perfectly comfortable being nude around other people, and there’s no reason that he shouldn’t be able to focus on the art itself.

_But my god._

Just that flash of svelte thigh and brief shot of dark hair at Silver’s groin makes Flint’s entire body tingle with pure lust.

Silver sits on the bench and sets the prosthetic aside. The stump where his leg ends is puckered faintly in a feathery rough scar. For some reason Flint thinks he would like to kiss Silver there, and tell him how grateful he is that he’s alive, whatever happened in the past, Silver’s alive here and now, and the world is brighter for it. Obviously Flint doesn’t do that, but he’d _like_ to.

 *  *  *

The students start coming in and Flint’s grateful for the distraction. The sooner the class starts, the sooner it can be done and he can go bury his head under a pillow and scream with lust and frustration.

“Today we have John modeling for us.” Flint nods at him. “Idelle apparently is too busy being out of the country and getting married.”

There’s a murmur of conversation and congratulation, and he tunes it out, focusing instead on the way Silver’s smiling at the room. Christ, he’s even more devastating when he smiles. How is this fair?

“All right.” Flint says finally when he realizes the room has grown quiet while he’s been gazing at Silver. “Take your places and let’s get started.”

He turns back to Silver who raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“Anyway.” Flint gestures vaguely at the bench. “Just take any position that’s comfortable for you.”

Silver glances up at him, his lips twitching faintly with amusement and he hears what he said.

“Uh.”

“I’m fine with whatever.” Silver tells him. “Really. How do you want me?”

Flint takes a deep breath. He can do this. He can. He walks over to Silver to show him. “Sitting upright. One leg drawn up, your hand here.” He arranges Silver’s body quickly and impersonally with his hands, not lingering over his skin at all, for once lost in the pleasure of having something satisfying to focus on. Silver’s completely relaxed under his direction and Flint warms to him even more.

“There.” Flint steps back. “Good?”

“Works for me.” Silver grins at him.

“All right then.” Flint turns around quickly. A man could lose his heart to a smile like that.

 *  *  *

And then Silver loses the robe and resumes the pose and Flint is lost.

It’s not like Silver’s face is even completely symmetrical. It’s all his slightly off angles that draw Flint in. his mouth is a little too broad, his smile slightly curved to one side. His curls a little too thick and tangled and his nipples are oddly perfect. It’s annoying how attractive they are. If a student had just imagined those nipples, Flint would have told them they were unrealistic.

They just _are._

It’s fucking annoying how much all he wants to do is throw his students out and stretch Silver into every pose available and spend all night painting him. Painting. Flint hasn’t painted in years. He’s mostly just teaching these days and sketching in his spare time now. He hasn’t really had time to give his own art the focus he wants, or rather he hasn’t had the inspiration. And here it is right in front of him. Oh god, if he could have Silver for a week, he’d paint all day and night until his bones ached and his fingers bled until Silver begged for Flint to let him move.

Flint would let him move of course, he would let Silver do anything he wanted, and then he’d lay him down upon his sheets and touch him – with his fingertips and lips and body until Silver writhed under him with pleasure.

Flint blinks and returns to where he is. The room is a little too warm all of a sudden and he wants to go out into the biting air to regain his equilibrium and he can’t. The room is warm enough for Silver, to keep his bare limbs from freezing on this December day and Flint won’t change the temperature just because his idiotic imagination’s in complete overdrive.

He does duck into the back room for a moment to chug half a bottle of water and try to get himself under control.

It works partially.

Silver’s eyes definitely travel to him when he comes back into the room and Flint meets his gaze as best as he can: neutrally, like an artist. Silver’s just another classically breathtaking piece of art for him to admire. That’s all. There’s nothing wrong about admiring art.

 *  *  *

The first half of the classes passes all too quickly. Silver is a dream of a model. He’s perfectly composed, he doesn’t break his pose and he’s beautiful to look at. Why the fuck hasn’t Max suggested him before? Flint’s definitely going to ask as soon as he has a chance.

He walks around the classroom, just observing as the sketches and paintings begin to emerge. While he does that, Flint’s constantly aware of Silver out of the corner of his eye. The sinuous swell of his thigh, with his drawn up leg, and the way his forearm rests across it, like he’s gazing out over a faraway distance. Flint’s fingers itch to imagine what he’s seeing and just like that he has to return to his own drawing table to quickly sketch a few lines before he loses the chance.

 *  *  *

They break for ten minutes, with the students all going next door to get a coffee, and Flint watches Silver stretch and tries not to be obvious with his staring.

Silver fits his prosthetic back on and pulls his robe on. “Mind if I walk around?”

“Of course not.” He watches Silver walk around the room, and god, he’s going to fucking die.

Silver looks more at the studio itself than the easels that contain art based on him. He looks at the prints Flint has displayed on his walls, and the view from the windows, and the books on the bookshelf in the corner, before he turns back around.

“Sorry, just needed a bit of a stretch.”

“That’s fine.” Flint says. “Doing all right? Need any water?”

“Thanks.” Silver watches him as Flint gets him a water bottle.

Now that he knows what the body under the robe looks like, Flint’s even more aware of Silver every time he moves.

“Were you okay earlier?” Silver asks abruptly.

“What?” Flint starts.

“It’s just you looked a little flushed and you disappeared for a bit, and I just wanted to make sure.” Silver trails off. “There’s been this bug going around and Max keeps almost getting it and everyone is popping vitamin c like it’s crack, you know, nobody wants to get sick for the holidays.”

“Right. Yeah. I’m fine.” Flint says.

“Oh.” Silver says. “That’s good.” His gaze lingers on Flint for a moment.

Flint clears his throat. “Yeah.”

 *  *  *

The second half of the class is focused on Silver in a different pose. Silver sits with his back half to them, his head turned slightly to one side, his hair shadowing his face. The smooth line of his back is unbearably lovely all the way down to the curve of his ass and Flint wants to part those cheeks with his fingers, sliding his tongue down along the cleft of that perfect ass and make Silver fucking scream.

Flint takes a moment to draw another quick sketch of his own because he can’t bear the thought that he’ll never see Silver again, never have a chance to draw him again.

He takes another circle around the room, making comments where it’s needed, offering a word here and there. Most people are taking his class simply for requirements or even fun, and Flint doesn’t fault them for that. He doesn’t know what to do with them to be honest, but he’s not going to crush their dreams just because they can’t paint a bowl of grapes like Monet. There are a few serious students and he gives them a smidge more attention and criticism.

And then there are the assholes who think they’re actually good when really every breath they take is simply a waste of time upon this earth.

“You’re ignoring the lower half.” Flint says slowly. Not so much ignoring it, but simply drawing it differently. Dufresne has drawn Silver with two completely able legs.

“I’m not ignoring it. I simply didn’t want to draw it as it was.” Dufresne says back. He looks bored like he can’t believe they’re having this conversation. To be fair, he was the one who once said art was the expression of a soul when it has nothing to say and Flint couldn’t even begin to parse the meaning or lack thereof behind that.

Flint’s eyes narrow. “Care to explain that comment?”

Dufresne shrugs. “I’m not taking art to draw ugly things. I don’t want to draw a cripple.”

The word hangs bluntly in the air and Flint feels his hand clenching tightly at the sound of it. He can’t punch a student. That would be wrong. In spite of the fact that he’s put up with Dufresne all semester, it’s still unfathomable to Flint that the man would think making a remark like that would be even remotely acceptable. He doesn’t punch Dufresne, which he vaguely prides himself on. He doesn’t grab him by the scruff of the neck and drag him over in front of Silver to beg his forgiveness for even opening his ignorant mouth in the face of such beauty.

Flint doesn’t do any of that.

What he does do is move in closely until he sees Dufresne react visibly, body tensing at the sheer proximity of Flint, and then he leans in just a fraction more.

“Get the fuck out of my class room.  Collect your gear and go.” He leans even closer and Dufresne takes a step back. “If you even think about coming back, you’ll regret it.”

Dufresne nearly stumbles as he turns and practically runs away from the easel. He grabs his coat from the row of coat hooks and runs out into the winter air.

Flint takes a deep breath and then looks over his shoulder at Silver.

Only to find that Silver’s just looking at him, like he doesn’t care about anything that just happened. He’s barely moved from his original pose. It’s only to a pair of perceptive eyes like Flint’s who arranged his pose in the first place that would even notice the slight differences, the faint shifting of his leg, the subtle tension in his wrist as his arm rests a little further on his knee.

How can he not care what just happened?

Flint turns around and looks at the remaining students. “The comments Mr. Dufresne just expressed are unwelcome in my studio. If any of you share those opinions with him, you are welcome to leave as well.”

No one else moves.

“Good.” Flint says curtly. “Then we’ll continue.” He pauses and then looks quickly at Silver. “As long as you still want to.”

“Of course.” Silver says. In the next moment he’s returned completely to his original pose and there’s nothing about his appearance to suggest anything has even happened.

Flint keeps watching him for the rest of the class, but Silver is a complete professional.

 *  *  *

What’s ridiculous is just how _wrong_ Dufresne is. Even if you weren’t attracted to men, you’d think Silver was beautiful, and Flint is very much attracted to men. But all on his own, simply just existing, Silver is breathtaking. He has perfect form and just with a few movements, he’s able to completely change his persona. A tilt of his head this way, a crease of his mouth in that direction, and it’s like he’s a completely different person. He has the students cracking up at the end of the class when they start trying to get him to pose like famous art.

Flint finds himself smiling once or twice and then he sees Silver glance at him and he quickly ducks his head down, feeling his cheeks redden.

The last thing Silver will want after Dufresne’s comments is more unwelcome attention.

 *  *  *

Finally the session is done and Flint wraps it up, reminding everyone that anyone who did a painting today that they can pick up their pieces the day after tomorrow, and that he’ll have grades out by the end of the week. A few students linger to tell him how much they’ve enjoyed the class and Flint barely has time to be aware of Silver pulling on his robe and slipping off to the bathroom to get dressed.

As the last student leaves and Flint’s packing away his pencils, he hears the bathroom door open and close.

He looks up to see Silver standing there.

Silver in clothes is almost more unbearable than seeing him nude. The tattered plaid shirt he’s wearing over a plain black t-shirt. The way he sweeps his hair back into a ponytail. His worn jeans clinging softly to his body. If Flint saw him in a bar, he would make unreasonable excuses to himself as to why he shouldn’t hit on him and then want to hit on him anyway. Silver was meant to be worshipped and Flint can hear Hozier playing softly in the background porno of his brain.

Silver’s looking at his phone for a second as a curl drifts past his cheek and Flint imagines being the one lucky enough to tuck it back behind his ear before he leaned down to kiss Silver’s cheek, pressing his body against Silver’s back, the entire length of his form fitting to Silver’s like he was meant to.

A pencil cracks under Flint’s grip and he stares down at like it betrayed him.

Silver looks at him worriedly. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” Flint says. It doesn’t matter that even his art supplies think it’s been too long since he got laid.

Silver smiles a little. “Good session, I thought.”

“Look,” Flint starts. “I’m…sorry for what happened earlier. What he said.” He should have made Dufresne apologize, but he wouldn’t have meant it and somehow Flint knows that Dufresne himself doesn’t matter to Silver. It’s still the principle of thing.

Silver shrugs. “I’ve heard worse.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

Silver looks at him thoughtfully. “They’re paying you to teach this class, right?”

“Yeah.” Flint doesn’t see how that’s relevant.

“So you just tossed out a paying student? Why?”

“Because he was rude and ableist, and frankly, between you and me his art is terrible.” The last part just comes out because somehow, for some reason, just throwing him out because of Silver doesn’t seem enough when Silver’s looking at him with those intense blue eyes. Like Silver doesn’t think it was worth it. _How can he think that_ , Flint thinks. _How can he not know how much he matters?_

Silver laughs. “Really.” He shakes his head. “Not a lot of people would have done that. Technically he was just expressing his opinion.”

“Which was garbage.” Flint says coolly. “If he didn’t want to draw your leg as it was, he could have come up with a hundred ways to work with it, instead of simply erasing the existence of your stump.” He pauses. “But you don’t get anywhere in life, as an artist, or as a human, by ignoring how things actually are and pretending they are different just because it suits you to do so.”

“Really.” Silver says again after a moment. “And how are things?”

 _“Dufresne should have been grateful that he even got to lay eyes on you.”_ Flint wants to say, but he keeps that comment to himself. It’s borderline inappropriate, _he’s_ borderline inappropriate here and he promised Max that he would be nice. He’s already ruined that by allowing Dufresne in the same room with Silver.

“Realistic.” He says. “Just because you are the first model with a disability we’ve had this semester, doesn’t make it any more acceptable for Dufresne to make comments about you, than it was for him to comment on Idelle’s body.”

“What?”

“My regular model, the one who’s getting married in Belize.” Flint shrugs. “Honestly, he only started with those comments after she turned him down for a date, but it really just showed how much of an ass he was. I’d have kicked him out sooner but Idelle enjoyed seeing how much she could make him squirm during class.” He shrugs again.

“Huh.” Silver says. “Well, anyway. It’s okay. Just so you know, I’d happily model for you, or your class anytime.”

There’s just enough of a pause between ‘you’ and the words ‘or your class’ to make them really sink in and Flint considers all the ways he could see that happening before remembering this is Max’s friend and he’s a professional and he’s not going to fuck this up.

“Right, yeah, cool.” Flint says, and then winces. Did he really just say _cool_?

Silver comes closer and then he leans into Flint’s drawing space. “So…did you draw me?”

Flint swallows. “I may have made a few preliminary sketches. I mean, I had the class to consider, but I needed to…to….” _Needed to make a memory so that I would always have you like that._

He wants Silver flat on his back with his arms thrown high above his head, his mouth open in a loud moan, his eyes closed tight against coming, his stomach taut, his thighs wide, and a hand spread possessively over his lower belly, a head over his crotch, moving steadily over his dick.

Flint looks down at the broken pencil on his table. He still can’t believe he did that and yet, it really seems like it’s been a while.

“It’s all right.” Silver says. “I’d like to see them sometime.”

“Mmm.” Flint says. “I don’t really show unfinished stuff to anyone.” He knows he’s being a dick now, and he knows this is what Max tried to warn him about, but he can’t help it.

Silver looks slightly disappointed but nods. “I get it. Anyway, I should be going.”

Flint realizes he’s forgetting something. “One sec.” He goes over to his desk and gets out his checkbook. He writes a check quickly and brings it over to Silver. “Thank you again for stepping in at the last minute. I really appreciate it.”

“Like, I said,” Silver takes the check from him, his fingertips brushing the back of Flint’s hand ever so briefly as he does. “Anytime.”

And then he’s gathering his bag and putting on his coat and going out into the falling snow.

Flint sighs and finally lets himself slump against the drawing desk. _What the fuck._

He wants a cup of tea so he ducks upstairs to his flat, which is just above his studio only to remember that he’s completely out of milk.

With a sigh he pulls on his coat and goes back down stairs and goes outside. The snow is light but steady and Flint curses it as he makes his way to the corner store, buys a carton of milk and heads back home.

As he nears his doorway, he notices what he somehow missed beforehand on his way to the shop. The figure huddling slightly in the doorway next to his studio, hunched over their phone. Silver’s still there.

“Um.” Flint pauses. “Is everything okay?”

Silver looks up. “What? Oh. Yeah. It’s fine.”

It’s clearly not fine. His coat is thin and he’s shivering, exactly how Flint had worried that he’d shiver in his studio if it wasn’t warm enough.

“Then why are you still here?” Flint asks bluntly.

“The bus is delayed and I don’t have enough cash for a cab.” Silver’s mouth thins. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worrying about it.” Flint bites back. He’s not. But why didn’t Silver just come back inside for fuck’s sake? “Come in out of the snow to wait for the bus then.”

Silver gives him a look and then another at his phone and then sighs and shrugs. “Fine.” Like he’s doing Flint a fucking favor by accepting this suggestion.

Flint’s so annoyed at him that he almost doesn’t admire Silver’s ass in those jeans. Almost.

“Up the stairs.” Flint nods when Silver starts towards the studio door. “I have an apartment above the studio.”

Silver gives him a look but goes.

Flint shows him in. “Make yourself at home. I was going to make some tea.” He brandishes the milk like he had to have an excuse to have been out in the first place. “Do you want tea?”

“Sure.” Silver says.

Flint eyes him. “I can make coffee if you’d prefer.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s no trouble.”

“Really?”

“I said it was no trouble.”

“Coffee then.” Silver says and grins again, that grin that makes Flint a little too aware of his tongue in his own mouth and how it feels when he’s kissing someone, how it feels when he’s losing himself in a favorite song, how much he wants to taste Silver.

He leads the way into the kitchen and Silver follows.

Flint puts the milk in the fridge and busies himself getting the coffee started. “So how do you know Max?”

“Art school.” Silver says, watching him. “How do you know her?”

“Art school.” Flint says and smiles faintly. “She was my model for the first half of a semester and then I realized she was way more useful as a TA and then that evolved somehow, and I recommended her to a friend of mine and now she’s running his art studio.” And dating his girlfriend, but there you go.

“Really.” Silver looks at him with new respect. “So that was you who got her that job.”

“I didn’t get her anything.” Flint says firmly. “I just introduced them. Max got the job because she’s good at what she does.”

“Mmm, that she is.” Silver nods. “And what about you?”

“Mm, what?” Flint says.

Silver’s gazing at him thoughtfully. “Are you good at what you do?”

“It depends on what I’m doing.” Flint says, feeling the heat gathering in his groin and his belly.

Silver smiles, like that’s exactly what he wanted to hear. “I’d like to see those sketches now.”

And for some inexplicable reason, Flint shows him.

He lays them on the kitchen table and finishes making the coffee while Silver studies them.

Silver’s brow furrows. “You drew me on a ship?”

“Look, I know it doesn’t make any sense, but it felt right.” He didn’t have the time to fill it all in, but it’s perfect in his opinion. In the sketch Silver’s half reclining, stretched out on a window seat in a ship’s cabin, gazing out an open window at the rolling waves below him. Flint had left the stump bare in that one, dressed him loose breeches and a shirt open to the chest, placing a crutch at one side of the window seat.

“Huh.” Silver says. “Interesting.” He looks up at Flint curiously.

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s not that.” Silver shakes his head. “I like seeing how people see me. It shows me what they think.”

“Like Dufresne.” Flint murmurs.

“Like him.” Silver nods. “I didn’t have to hear him speak to know he was an asshole, his art gave it away.”

“And mine?” Flint asks before he can stop himself, and also he wants to know what Silver makes of it.

“I wouldn’t have thought of the ship aspect, but I like it. It’s imaginative, and rather romantic actually, if slightly impractical.”

“Impractical?” Flint frowns. “How so?”

“Can you imagine me on a ship?” Silver says dryly.

“Clearly I already have.” Flint says back just as dryly.

Silver grins, leaning back against the counter. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me.”

“What?” Flint stares at him, feeling his face heat up again.

“Drawing me like that, like I’m just sitting there, daydreaming, waiting for some fierce pirate captain to rescue me and carry me away on his ship. Almost like you were being my protector earlier, defending me from the dicks of the world.” Silver smiles, but there’s a faint edge to it. “It’s all very sweet, but you didn’t have to do that. I don’t need anyone to protect me.”

“I never said you did.” Flint begins. He hadn’t meant it like that; he can tell Silver can look after himself. “That doesn’t mean someone shouldn’t take a stand when other people are dicks.”

“Good.” Silver says.  “You do want to fuck me though.”

“Well.” Flint says. “Yes.”

He can’t help being honest about that.

“All right.” Silver says. “Let’s fuck.”

Flint blinks at him slowly. “I’m sorry?”

Silver smiles and reaches out a hand to brush up Flint’s chest. “I like how you see me.” He says softly and leans up to kiss Flint.

 *  *  *

The snow is falling outside as Flint leads Silver into the bedroom. Even though he’s seen Silver naked before, this moment is new, this private undressing, just here the two of them. Flint’s expressly aware of every movement he’s making, every motion between them until Silver’s standing there naked, looking up at him, and Flint’s heart beats a little too quick in his chest, like he’s just crossed a finish line for a race he wasn’t even aware he was running.

“Where do you want me?” Silver whispers, teasingly.

And Flint slides his hands down to cup his ass, lifting him, and laying him down on the bed.

“Right here.”

Now he can do what he wants. He kiss Silver’s mouth, tasting him, he can let his hands drift down his body, reveling in the gloriousness of it. He can kiss Silver’s nipples, feeling them harden under his tongue’s ministrations and then he grazes them with his teeth and Silver exhales shakily.

“I need you to fuck me now.”

“In a minute.” Flint says, licking his left nipple again.

“This is torture.” Silver complains.

“Torture.” Flint raises an eyebrow. “Hardly. Torture was watching you all afternoon, so close and yet so far out of my reach, knowing I couldn’t touch you like I wanted. I could show you true torture.”

Silver grins at him. “Is that right?”

Flint pushes himself up to gaze down at him. “Is that a challenge?”

“I don’t tend to let people tie me up on the first date.” Silver says.

That’s a challenge; Flint can hear it in his voice and he answers it readily. “Maybe on the second then.”

There’s a swell of pleasure in Silver’s eyes and then he reaches for Flint, drawing his mouth down to kiss again. “Seriously though, I do need your dick in me now.”

“All right, all right.” Flint says, like it’s a hardship. Something’s hard at any rate, but no one has ever compared his cock to a ship thankfully.

He fetches the lube from his bedside table and slicks his fingers. Silver’s already spread his legs and Flint slips a finger inside, watching his face as he does so.

Silver bites his lip as Flint stretches him. “More.”

So Flint adds a second finger and then a third, simply enjoying the feel of Silver’s body under his and then finally, because he can’t resist, he strokes his prostate, just a slight brush of his fingertips and Silver gasps.

“That’s unfair.”

Flint grins and removes his fingers. He leans over and grabs a condom from the drawer. He turns back to see Silver gazing at him with an expression that is pure lust.

Flint’s grin widens as he rolls the condom on. He positions himself between Silver’s thighs. The first thrust is a little awkward and they switch angles slightly, until Silver nods approvingly.

Flint moves steadily in him, still slightly amazed this is happening. He moves faster, caught up in the moment, even as he wants to prolong it. Silver shifts faintly beneath him, a frown creasing his forehead, giving Flint pause.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, just a faint crick in my hip. It’s nothing.”

“Here.” Flint says, easing out of him. “Let me try something.”

He turns Silver easily on his side, sliding into him again from that angle. “How’s that?” It feels like heaven to him, but he wants Silver to be comfortable, so he doesn’t move until Silver says it’s all right.

“Much better, thanks.” Silver says, pushing back against Flint’s cock, sinking further on it. “Yeah, that’ll work.”

Flint growls, gripping his hips tightly. He thrusts deeper into Silver with even, tortuous strokes until his balls slap against Silver’s ass. Silver moans, rocking back on his cock as he turns his head to kiss Flint’s lips. His tongue slides hungrily into Flint’s mouth and Flint lets him set the pace as they move.

Flint encircles his dick with his hand, stroking Silver off as they fuck a little too fast, a little too needy, but needing the speed and the friction, letting it build until Silver’s shouting hoarsely as he comes and Flint’s teeth sink into the curve of his neck as he joins him.

He should have asked before he did that, he thinks belatedly and then does it again anyway, wanting to leave his mark on Silver so he won’t be forgotten when this is done.

 *  *  *

Flint lies on his back, catching his breath, and then he rolls over. He can’t resist gazing at Silver as he is now, as he’s been picturing him all day.

Silver’s stretched out across his dark blue sheets, all pale limbs and dark curls. He grins lazily at Flint. “Admit it.”

“Admit what?” Flint says, just gazing at his stomach, the perfect line of it, the dark hair growing there down to his groin, and his cock, which Flint has yet to taste and fully intends to rectify that soon. He particularly likes the way the mark looks on Silver’s neck.

“Admit that you want to draw me right now, just like this.”

Flint would blush if he had any blushes left, but they were all spent in the heat of passion so now all he can do is nod weakly.  It’s true. He can admit it. He’s not ashamed of his desire.

Silver stretches casually, one arm above his head, the other resting on his chest as he gazes up at Flint, a sprawl of tousled curls and sated lust. “Then draw me.”

So Flint does. He fetches his pencils and sketchbook and sits at the end of the bed and draws Silver in stark lines and soft shadows, his eyes poring over Silver’s naked form until he’s filled several pages and finally his fingers still and he can breathe again.

 Flint sets the sketchbook aside. “Thank you for that.”

Silver smiles up at him. “I know what it’s like to date artists.”

“Do you…” Flint murmurs, not quite jealously.

“Well.” Silver raises his other arm above his head, stretching them both with a sigh. “That’s not true. I know what it’s like to be with an artist. It wasn’t the greatest of experiences to be honest.”

“Oh.” Flint says carefully.

Silver tilts his head and looks at him. “Hey, that has nothing to do with you.”

“I know.” Flint says. He starts to move to the edge of the bed to get up, and Silver’s hand catches him.

“I want you.” Silver breathes, leaning in to press a kiss to Flint’s wrist. “Right now. Right here. Inside me. Again.”

“I mean, we just.” Flint says, but even as he speaks, Silver’s kissing him again, crawling onto his lap and Flint steadies him, holding as Silver rubs teasingly against his groin.

His dick’s definitely ready for another go.

Silver sinks down on him, exhaling slowly. “Fuck, you feel so good inside me.” He lets his head fall back as he rocks his hips. “I could ride your dick all night.”

Flint’s fingers squeeze his ass, making him moan. “Sounds all right to me.”

Silver chuckles breathlessly, and the sensation sends little vibrations trembling through Flint’s body. “Sounds all right? Is that what a pirate captain says?”

“I thought we weren’t doing that on the first date.” Flint murmurs, aware of the slow steady squeeze of Silver’s body around his cock, Silver’s going to make him come too soon and he’s not ready, he doesn’t want to leave the warmth of Silver’s body. Not just yet.

“Mmmm, I forgot.” Silver catches his lower lip and sucks on it, making Flint’s cock throb harder inside him. “It’s hot. Can’t remember the time I wanted to be on a boat.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Flint murmurs and Silver laughs.

He keeps moving, slower and slower until Flint’s chest is heaving, straining with trying to hold out.

“Just come for me.” Silver whispers.

“I’m not wearing a condom.” Flint says belatedly. Silver had just sat on his dick bare and he’d let him without even a moment’s pause.

“Shit.” Silver freezes and then he looks at Flint. “You don’t have to believe me, but I’m clean, I swear.”

“I believe you.” Flint reaches up to brush that tantalizing curl back behind his ear. “Same.”

“So it’s okay?” Silver looks unsure.

“Do you want me to come inside you?” Flint asks.

Silver pushes himself up, rising almost all the way off Flint’s dick and then sinking back down. “I want nothing else.”

Flint stifles his groan and comes, Silver squeezing so tightly around him, he wants to scream aloud until they hear him in the street below.

When Silver finally lets him slip out of him, Flint flips him on his back, trapping him on the bed.

Silver gazes up at him with mirth in his eyes, waiting.

Flint just grins and then captures his dick with his mouth. Two can play at this game.

Silver groans, hips bucking up against Flint’s mouth, as his finger slide through Flint’s wavy hair. “Mm, yeah, just like that, fuck, Flint, fuck, yeah.”

Flint wants to listen to him all night. He slings Silver’s thighs over his shoulders as he goes down on him, fingers teasing at Silver’s balls until Silver gasps and, his hand tightens in Flint’s hair. That’s all the warning Flint gets before Silver’s coming down his throat and he swallows it, watching Silver’s face, as beautiful in this surrender as a full moon on a dark winter’s night.

He kisses the tip of Silver’s dick when he lets it go, and then Silver’s thigh, and then presses a final kiss to Silver’s stump before he sits up.

“Fuck, that was good.” Silver murmurs drowsily. And then he looks at the clock. “Shit, I have to be going.”

“Oh.” Flint says. “Um…is there another bus?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fine.”

“Look, I can give you cash for the cab.” Flint says. “I know a check isn’t really convenient, but I didn’t have the full amount in cash on me. I have enough for a cab though.”

Silver looks at him, biting his lip as he considers Flint’s offer, and then sighs. “You know what….I’ll take it.”

Flint gets his wallet, feeling slightly jubilant as though he’s won something by Silver accepting this. Instinctively, he knows Silver wouldn’t have accepted this from just anyone and it matters that he’s letting Flint do this for him.

It’s not until he’s watching Silver get dressed that it actually sinks in what he’s just done. He fucked one of his models, not even just that, but a friend of Max’s. And even beyond that, he led Silver to believe there would be a second date when really, there shouldn’t have even been a first one. Not that this was a proper date obviously.

“Um.” Flint says… He wants to say he’ll call Silver. He wants to say so many things, but he can’t do any of that.

Silver’s younger than him. He could be with anyone he wanted. Flint works all the time, has no patience for people and no time for a relationship and occasionally a penchant for reciting poetry when he’s drunk. He’d be a terrible boyfriend.

“So,” Silver says after a moment. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah.”  Flint says.

Silver reaches up and kisses him, a soft melting kiss that makes Flint want to clasp him to him and never let him go.

 *  *  *

Two nights later, Flint finds himself at the bar where Anne said they were going to meet for drinks, and then only cancelled them after Flint was already there, so instead he’s just here drinking alone and thinking of Silver. He can’t stop thinking about Silver.

He wants to see him again, but it would be a disaster. He can’t date Silver; he can’t date anyone. He was meant to be a hermit, alone with his art.

“I see you didn’t find out drinks were cancelled until it was too late either.” Jack drops onto the stool next to him, waving at the bartender. “Can I get a gin and tonic?  Thank you.”

“Hello, Jack.” Flint says, finishing his whiskey and raising his hand for another as well.

“Hello, James.” Jack says. He looks at him critically. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Flint reaches gratefully for his fresh drink as they arrive.

“Something’s clearly wrong.”

“I had a thing. And it went wrong. And that is what’s wrong.”

“Well, that was illuminating.” Jack nods. “Extremely helpful. Look.” He takes a generous sip of his drink. “Tell Daddy all about it.”

“I am not telling you a single thing unless you promise to never refer to yourself as daddy ever again.” Flint makes a face.

Jack laughs and nods. “Just tell me then.”

Flint hesitates and then he decides what the hell. He might as well tell someone and Jack’s had relationships. That’s a key component here. Actually having had a relationship in the last five years that had actually lasted, which is not something Flint’s had or even thought about having. He just doesn’t date and usually it didn’t matter. Now it matters.

So he tells Jack the whole story, omitting a few details, such as Silver’s name, and the fact that it was Max who suggested him, and the fact that they were friends. Jack doesn’t need to know everything.

“And then he just drops the robe.” Flint gestures. “And it’s all gorgeous naked skin and he’s so gorgeous. Like a greek god, you know?”

“Yes, you’ve said that.” Jack tips his drink back. “I take it the sex was had.”

“It was GOOD.” Flint says loudly. “Really GOOD. Best sex of my life probably.”

“I said HAD, not BAD.” Jack sighs and squints at his empty glass. “We need more alcohol.”

“Yes, that we need.” Flint says. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t talk to Jack more; he should talk to Jack all the time. It’s so easy to talk to Jack. “Did I tell you how beautiful his ass was?”

“Only a mere four times.” Jack sighs.

“Made in heaven.” Flint sighs too. “Meant to be held and caressed and bitten. You have never seen an ass this beautiful, Jack, I’m telling you.”

 *  *  *

In the morning, Flint regrets his hangover and he regrets spilling his guts to Jack, and mostly he regrets that he ever gave in to the impulse to sleep with Silver in the first place.

He resigns himself to not dwelling on the model anymore. It’s nearly the new year. It’ll be a fresh start.

He can’t bring himself to get rid of his sketches of Silver though, so instead he tucks them in an old sketchbook and leaves them there.

 *  *  *

On New Year’s Eve Flint stands on the doorstep outside Max apartment, balancing a bottle of wine and trying to act cheerful. It’s New Year’s Eve. He can do this. He promised Max. He remembers vaguely what cheerful is supposed to look like.

“Come in already.” Max opens the door. “It’s freezing out there.”

“Here.” He hands her the wine.

“Thanks,” She pointedly rises up on her tiptoes and Flint sighs and bends down enough that she can kiss his cheek.

“Jeez.” Max rolls her eyes. “It’s so fucking hard to be affectionate with you.”

“What’s eating you?”

“What’s eating me?” Max looks at him like he’s done something extremely stupid. “You had a perfect chance to...” She pauses. “Nevermind. Look, I promised Anne I wouldn’t talk about this tonight.”

“Not talk about what?” Flint stares at her.

“You and Silver.” She hisses.

“What?” Flint doesn’t have a fucking clue what she’s talking about. How did she even know about that? Had Silver told her? Shit, he hadn’t thought about that.

“Anyway. Be nice.” She says, leading the way up the stairs to the apartment.

“I’m always nice.” Flint says as he steps through the door. It was a lie, but it was a lie in the spirit of Christmas, which he felt was excusable under the circumstances.

“No, you’re not and I meant be nice to Silver.”

“What?” Flint stops. “He’s here?”

Max points at Anne as she comes over to them. “Told you.”

“Um, maybe.” Flint looks over his shoulder at the door. It’s not too late; he could still escape.

“Don’t even think about it.” Max says. “If you leave now, I will never talk to you again.” She stalks off with the wine.

“She means it.” Anne says, looking up at Flint. “You better make it up to her.”

“How is what happened between Silver and me…” Flint pauses as he tries to consider just how much Max might know, “how is it really her concern?”

“Because she’s fucking friends with both of you, you idiot.” Anne shakes her head. “So don’t be a dick and go mingle.”

Flint scowls but obeys. He makes his way over to the buffet table and stares at a tower of something. He thinks it might be cheese. It’s wrong whatever it is. He hates it and hopes the person who designs it is lactose intolerant. They clearly don’t deserve cheese.

“What did cheese ever do to you?”

Flint turns to see Silver standing there looking at him.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Flint manages a strained attempt at a smile. He wants desperately to say something else, but what can he say? _Sorry I didn’t call you after we slept together because I’m too worried I’ll fuck everything up?_

“Um,” Silver clears his throat, “Well then, I’m going to get a drink.”

“I’ll come with you.” Flint says hastily. He’s just caught sight of Jack and the last thing he wants to do is get caught talking to Jack. He’s just remembered the last time he talked to Jack and he can’t think about that now.

Silver shrugs, and they walk over to the drinks table where Flint quickly pours himself a glass of red wine. Silver goes with a beer and for a moment there is silence.

“So…” Silver says and then looks like he wished he hadn’t.

Flint wishes he could just stand there looking at him, Silver’s wearing a red sweater that makes Flint’s fists curl with the desire to wrap his fingers in its folds and pull him closer. It looks so soft, he can only imagine how it feels against Silver’s skin.

Silver raises a hand to scratch awkwardly at the back of his head and the sweater rides up just enough for Flint to observe that (a)he’s not wearing a shirt under it and (b) that strip of skin along the top of Silver’s jeans is as delectable as ever.

“I...need the toilet.” He says abruptly and leaves before he can beg Silver to let him lick him.

 *  *  *

Jack’s leaning against the wall, telling some story to a group of people and Flint tries to skirt around him to get to the bathroom and instead Jack draws him in and starts telling a story about the time he had tried to surprise Anne with roses, only to end up having to get thorns removed from his ass. Someone, not that Jack is naming names, mind you, _Max_ he coughs, had put the bouquet on the bed and no one had noticed until it was too late.

“That’s romance then, for you, though.” Jack says philosophically. “Isn’t it, James?”

“Romance is really more your thing than mine.” Flint points out. He’s aware that Silver’s on the edge of the small crowd listening to Jack. He needs to get out of here.

“Ah yes, that’s true. James here, is far more the type to ignore romance even when it’s staring him in the face.” Jack murmurs conspiratorially to one of the guests, “He was so worried about doing the wrong thing, he didn’t even call his last one night stand back to say it was the best shag of his life.”

Flint feels himself frozen in place. Oh god. This is worse than he could possibly imagine. He can’t look at Silver; he can’t look anywhere else.

Silver’s gazing at Jack with a peculiar expression. “What?”

“Doncha you know? Old James here had a fantastic date a few weeks ago and told me the whole story, about how he didn’t want to fuck it up so he just left the young man hanging, as it were. Bit rude in my opinion, but that’s James for you, ooww!” Jack complains loudly as Max pinches him. “What was that for?!”

Silver’s gaze switches to Flint who turns around and goes straight across the room and out on the balcony. Which he immediately regrets because it’s freezing, but he couldn’t stay in there. It’s easier to freeze on the balcony.

“Is that true?”

Flint turns around and finds Silver standing in the doorway, gazing at him.

“You didn’t call me because you didn’t want to fuck it up?”

Flint sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Well, when you put it like that, it does sound rather a shit reason.”

“So it’s true.”

“Yes.” Flint admits. “I just…thought it would be better if we didn’t see each other again. I just didn’t want to ruin it.” He looks down.

And then up again sharply as Silver starts laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Flint demands.

“I thought you didn’t call me because of my leg, you dumbass.” Silver says. “It wouldn’t have been the first time, but I really thought you were different and then you didn’t call, and well.” He shrugs a little.

“Why would you think it was because of your leg?”

“Because that happens, all right?” Silver wraps his arms around himself, glaring at Flint. “You’d be surprised at the amount of people who want to fuck me, but just once, just for the experience. Fucking the pretty one-legged model. It gets old.” He looks down.

There’s snow falling on his hair and on his sweater.

Flint hesitates and then he moves closer. “That’s not why I didn’t call, I swear to you.”

Silver huffs a little under his breath without looking up. “Does it matter why you didn’t? You still didn’t.”

“That’s true.” Flint concedes. “I suppose it matters if you still want me to call.” He catches his breath, unsure of what he’s doing, but unable to bear the expression on Silver’s face another moment.

Silver hesitates and then looks up at him. “I still want that second date.”

Flint cups his face in his hands. “Good because I still want to torture you until you beg for my cock.”

“Oh god, yes.” Silver moans slightly as Flint kisses him, and it’s a little early, it’s not even midnight yet, but somehow this is their new year starting right here, right now. Flint wraps his coat around Silver and kisses him again. In a minute, they’ll go inside, in a minute they’ll make their farewells and leave the party. Silver’s coming home with him tonight; somehow Flint already knows this.

But for now, here, in the falling snow and the winter cold, all he can think is the heat of Silver’s body melded with his, and how much he wanted this without even knowing it. How ready he was to fall in love.


End file.
